Fix You
by uneecrivaine
Summary: BRALLIE. "You are not screwed up, Brandon. You are the most normal human being I've ever met. You are consistency and that is why I take so much comfort in you." Brandon is in a world of pain and it seems the only one who can help him is the one he has helped so many times before. Short & sweet role reversal of the two star-crossed lovers. Oneshot. RxR.


It was almost midnight and everybody was asleep in the house. Callie counted herself in on that one because everybody always figured she slept at night, though seldom she actually did. Most of the time she would just lay there, eyes on the unmoving ceiling, mind on her ever-moving life, though it never seemed to move in the direction she hoped it would.

And though usually some sad song would play in the back of her head, that night it was carrying down the hallway, slipping under her door and threatening to spill tears on her cheeks. It was the saddest song she had ever heard, and someone capable of such emotion would have to be in deep pain themself.

Also taking in to account the hour, Callie decided it would be best if she checked on him. It was unlike him to stay up so late. Nothing more had to happen, she just needed to make sure he was okay.

Mindful of the creaking door, she made only a tiny crack and squeezed between it, careful not to wake Mariana, who always seemed to slumber so peacefully and easily. That was one thing she envied of the girl.

Another was her go-getter attitude. There was so much Callie wanted in this life, but something always seemed to hold her back. And in those rare times that nothing was in her way, she doubted herself, and wondered if she actually deserved any happiness at all.

She couldn't stop the tear that made its way down to her lips. It tasted of salt and bad memories.

Coming to stand in front of his door, she started to rethink her decision. What if he was just having a random case of insomnia? Boy, would she look stupid. And then he would ask why _she _was still up, and that required either telling the truth or coming up with some awkward excuse that would only add mortar to the thick wall she spent so many hours torn between.

She didn't want to be this way, so reserved, untrustful. But it was the only way. She never had a choice in anything anymore, there was never a fork in the road. Just a single, lonely dirt path.

But the second her feet tingled with the urge to turn back, a small crash sounded from inside and she glued herself to the floor. Something unfamiliar compelled her to rap on the door, freezing all movement from inside the room.

"Who is it?"

She leaned her forehead into the door, closing her eyes gently. "Callie."

"Callie? Go back to bed."

His voice was so foreign, especially through the thick wood of the door. And if the tone of his voice wasn't enough to convince her to hang around longer, she didn't know what would be. "I can't."

Rather abruptly the door swung out from under her and she barely managed to catch herself before meeting his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot and definitely void of their usual brilliant color. She thought maybe it was the lighting, but the way he carried himself seemed off, too. "You can't or you won't?"

She sneaked a peek into his bedroom, which was littered with clothing and trash that obviously never found its way to the empty trashcan in the corner of the room. It was unlike him to be so untidy. "Why can't you?"

His expression remained unchanging. "You really should get some sleep. You have group in the morning."

It killed her how soft he forced himself to be with her, when she could see that was the last thing he wanted to be right then. He was always the one that remained composed for her when he could sense she was going through a difficult time.

"Brandon?" she whispered, and he looked at her, he really looked at her, taking in all of her delicate curves and features, watching as the moonlight caught the nearly dried streak of a fallen tear. "Let me in."

Silently, he stepped aside for her to enter, not quite closing the door behind her. Once she would see how screwed up he was, he knew she would run. It was the smartest thing for her to do.

"Your guitar is broken." She wasn't sure if it was meant to be a question or statement, but it came out somewhere between those two, and she found herself approaching the instrument, that lay in two pieces on his rumpled bedspread. "You can have the one you gave me back."

She looked over her shoulder to find him watching her with those same, sad eyes, lips slightly parted as if he were debating between saying something or not. He merely shrugged. "It happens. And no, that's yours."

She nodded slightly, running her fingers along the single string that wasn't snapped. "But you can play it anytime you want, obviously."

"Right."

The silence grew louder than noise itself and Callie chewed on her bottom lip, deciding to just cut to the chase. "What are we doing?"

"I think we're skirting somewhere along the lines of having a conversation and a heart-to-heart."

It was the perhaps the longest sentence he had spoken so far that night, and Callie found herself actually seizing the opportunity to push forward. He looked so broken, so un-Brandon, she had to admit that it slightly hurt her, too. "I'm listening."

"That's the problem, always listening, never actually talking." He brushed past her to take a seat on his piano bench, back facing her. He tapped a few keys absently, adding, "Did I make you cry?"

Callie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly very confused. "What?"

"You've been crying." His voice naturally softened as he said this, and he mentally cursed himself for it. She was such a weakness. His feelings for her were only making things more difficult.

"Indirectly, I guess you did. The song," she paused, waiting for any reaction from him, but he continued to play some random melody with his head down away from her, "the song was so sad. Are you okay, Brandon? This isn't you."

Another shrug. "It is now."

Callie was growing frustrated, about to turn around and leave, when she realized that this is what she does to him all the time. Always stepping on ice, never giving direct answers, shutting him out. But he never gave up on her, and she found herself in debt to him for that. "Is it your new piano teacher?"

She hit a chord as he literally hit a chord. "Among other things."

Slowly she walked over to him and kneeled next to the piano bench he was sitting on, somewhat hesitantly placing a hand on his knee. Neither one of them spoke for a few seconds as Callie thought over this action, ready to pull her hand away. But while it didn't feel right, it didn't feel wrong, either. "Tell me about it."

He shut his eyes for a cool moment, the skin sucked in tight around his collarbones as he holds his breath. It all came out with one exhale, one long purge of everything he'd been holding in for too long. "My dad's an alcoholic, my girlfriend's a bitch, and I'll never be good enough for my piano teacher. I'll never be good enough for anyone."

Their eyes locked and Callie sighed, a strange mix of emotions lacing her breath. "One of those is not true and the other two are fixable. Brandon-"

"You don't have to pretend to be sorry for me, Callie, I know you're not. You've got so much going on, you always have. I will never be able to fully understand the extent of your experience. I'm screwed up, I know."

"No," she set him with a look that was almost motherly. "You are _not _screwed up, Brandon. You are the most normal human being I've ever met. You are consistency and that is why I take so much comfort in you."

A siren blared in her head, telling her to_ go back now_, but somehow she found the strength to ignore it, for his sake. "All my life, I've had so much to be happy about. So much to be thankful for. But I've never truly felt happy. And I'm a total ass for that."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. I think-"

"It's late," he cut her off, turning his head away from her once more, ignoring the hand that remained on his thigh. "You really need to go to bed."

"Brandon," she was practically pleading then, craning her neck to see his face and finding that silent tears were making their way down his cheeks. He was in more pain than she originally thought. "How can I help?"

But when he didn't answer her, she took it upon herself to situate herself on the piano bench, slightly surprised when he twisted his body towards her and pulled her into his arms, equally aware of her scheme. She fit perfectly there, straddling the piano bench between her legs, poured into his body like a mold, while he sobbed quietly into her hair. Nobody felt the need to say anything and nobody did for a long while, finally content witht the silence and the white moonlight that complemented it so.

And when he was done crying, he turned their bodies so that he could play her a lullaby, while she stayed tucked up into his side. And in the seconds before the first deep sleep she had had in a while, her eyes looked up to that thin, almond moon, that sliver of hope.

And in letting go that night, they both fixed each other a little bit.

Just a little.

**fin.**

_+5 cool points for those that review _


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